


Falling (Third Floor and Penthouse)

by MacallanSpecter



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Cute, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Sad, quotes, slow-burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 03:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2254767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacallanSpecter/pseuds/MacallanSpecter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing, could have prepared him for his runt of an <i>ex-</i>associate <strike><i> no longer a puppy</i>, he reminded himself,<i> he wears vests now</i></strike>, looking at him forlornly as if someone had run over <i>his</i> puppy. Or broken that death-trap goddamn bike of his.  Or, as the case were here, stolen the girl he was <strike>quite unfortunately</strike> crazy about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thread Count

“Speaking of which, you might wanna up the thread count.” Mike smirked, looking up through his eyelashes gathering together the remnant mush of his cereal with his spoon, and inhaling it straight from his bowl, milkstache and all. It was amazing, having _this_ with Harvey, after it all went to hell with Rachel and Logan and Pearson- _~~Sexy~~ Smug (bastard staring at him across the breakfast bar)_.

“Easy there, Puppy,” Harvey sighed fondly, “let’s clean up your mess first, I can look into bedding chicks later.”

_Chicks. Yeah, right._

“I thought puppies shouldn’t be allowed to clean up their own mess,” Mike retorted, without _much_ bitterness.

“Yeah but I’m not cleaning your goddamn shitstorm up alo-” Harvey blinked, then cleared his throat after a moment’s uneasy silence and observation of Mike’s face. “Ahem – that’s…I mean, loo – Mike, I’m-”

Mike’s shoulders sank lower, all the exuberance pushed out of him like a goddamn whoopee cushion got sat on by Louis. Harvey wanted to punch him. 

_Louis_.

~~_Not himself; not at all._ ~~

“It is a goddamn shitstorm, isn’t it?” Mike retorted, humourlessly snorting as his shoulders heavily heaved with an entirely different sentiment; “Why aren’t you ever wrong, Harvey?”

“What, I don’t –”

“You asked me not to speak to Trevor, and I did. You asked me not to tell Rachel, and I did. You asked me not to leave, _and I did_. And why do you even bother with me, when it blows up in my face, and everyone else saves their own ass, every damn time? _Why bother staying_ , Harvey?”

“Mike –”

“Answer me.” And there’s _that look_ again, the fire infused in Mike’s desolate eyes, what had made him so much more than a flunked pothead in the first place. Harvey sighed, staring right back at Mike who had moved almost chest-to-chest with him, empty cereal bowl abandoned on the marble breakfast bar. He owed Mike for that slip of the tongue.

“Rookie, you admit your mistakes and you learn from them. That’s all I can ask for. Well, except for you coming home, I mean, coming back. To Pearson Specter.” He didn’t let that little accident break his composure, carrying on, “Though you’re welcome here as long as you need. You know that.”

A brief and quiet “Thanks” made Harvey reconsider Mike, whose newfound bravado was instantly dissipating along with his waning anger, and he asked, softer, “Any ideas what you want to do? I mean, you’ve got the money to hold off on work for a bit, but about the apartment –”

“I don’t know,” Mike bit out, having gone almost instantaneously from levelling with Harvey to slumping into one of the breakfast bar stools again, “I, I can’t keep it Harvey, not with –”

“Mike, it was your grandmother’s.”

“You think I don’t know that? I used it to try make it up to her, and she left, and now it _isn’t good enough for Rachel either_ ; wait, _Rachel_ , maybe she’ll keep it –”

“Mike, no way Rachel makes that kind of money, and are you sure you’re okay with that? With her having –”

Mike sighed, blinking in an effort to remove what was clearly the evidence of an allergic reaction to the ~~non-existent, thank you very much, Harvey(‘s housekeeper) ran a very clean household~~  dust from his eyes. “Honestly, Harvey? I don’t care anymore. I have had _enough_ of being hurt time and time again, and I can’t, I just _can’t_ keep all these memories anymore, _I don’t want them_. _God_ , why can’t I just be _you_? Then I could sell up, take the rest of my savings and look to buy a place around here in goddamn _Vulcan_ with all you suits.”

“ _God_ , am I now? Nice to see you have finally surrendered to my excellence,” Harvey said wryly, trying to lighten the mood. He became absently aware that he’d also started stroking Mike’s back somewhere in the last 30 seconds, completely unintentionally but it was helping Mike become visibly more relaxed, so he figured _no harm done there_.  
He may seem more relaxed, however he was definitely still rambling. “To be fair, your shoe polish probably costs more than my last mortgage did, though, and you’re right, there’s Rachel whom I don’t even want to think about and I know she doesn’t make that much after tuition even on associate pay, but I can’t think whom else to ask, and I don’t know where to go anymor –”

Harvey couldn’t take it. In his professional lifetime at Pearson-Everyone-and-their-dog, he had seen _all_ of his colleagues break down at some point ~~even Donna, but that wasn’t his secret to tell~~ , and he noted how each of them succumbed, over the years. Louis, for instance, always went for instant revenge before blackmail, Jessica for instant war before an extorted peace, whereas Donna simply refused to organise while the world crashed and burned around her little pink-heart-post-it notes. Harvey, certified BAJD (Bad Ass Juris Doctor), just took rough days one at a time and promised that no one would ever see him sweat, no matter how perplexing or downright bizarre the situation got.

Nothing, however, could have prepared him for his runt of an _ex-_ associate ~~_no longer a puppy_ , he reminded himself, _he wears vests now_~~ , looking at him forlornly as if someone had run over _his_ puppy. Or broken that death-trap goddamn bike of his. Or, as the case were here, stolen the girl he was ~~quite unfortunately~~ crazy about.

Harvey dragged Mike to his feet, thanking his stars that at least Mike, sullen or not, was still no match for Harvey’s daily 7a.m. weight training sessions. Mike knew well enough not to be scared by Harvey’s demeanour, but still needed a moment for his lungs to catch up with his brain as Harvey enveloped his torso in a rib-bruising hug, his head nestled into Harvey’s left shoulder, damp nosing at Harvey’s left collarbone as a wet patch soon developed over that shoulder.

“Stay. Mike, as long as you want.”

And _God_ does he hope Mike _wants_ more than he _needs_ so Harvey isn't the only one.

“Mmhff –”

“So long as you shut up. And don’t snoop, and _definitely no Red Bull_ on my couch again –”

“Bu – I di –”

“Mike.”

“No Red Bull. Sorry.”

“ _Stay_ ," firmer this time, "I know a guy…”

Mike drifts off after that into his whirlpool thoughts, and Harvey notices _(of course)_ but continues speaking about looking at apartments in his building, not for anything but a break from the silent monotony of the moment. And if it lightens his heart to hold together the thread count of a fraying Mike, and hope someday communal town car rides home will put an end to Mike’s disastrous cycling habit, well he never said he _wasn’t_ an opportunist.


	2. Back Where You Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike, lost in stock options and songs about gold on the ceiling, only looked up from his neon-smeared briefs when Harvey flicked him behind the ear, almost whinnying in an ~~adorable~~ atrocious manner completely unbefitting Harvey Specter’s mini-me as he extricated himself from his tangle of highlighters and earphone wires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, again, thank you to everyone who left comments/kudos, or bookmarked my work; I am terribly honoured for the warm reception you have given my first fic in the fandom!  
> Secondly, I must warn you now that though I will still try and start chapters off using particular quotes in the series, this will probably stop by the next chapter or so, as after this chapter this will become an almost entirely AU!set fic.  
> That said, I hope this chapter doesn’t turn you off before you even get any further, and as ever, feel free to get in touch with me, MacallanSpecter, on tumblr or LJ!  
> -MS

“I may be happy about it, but _you know I’m right_. And the _truth_ is, I _never should have let him go in the first place_.”

Harvey stalked off, away from a seething yet stunned silent Jessica, and decided to walk in on their freshest _cubicle-occupying_ associate.

Mike, lost in stock options and songs about gold on the ceiling, only looked up from his neon-smeared briefs when Harvey flicked him behind the ear, almost whinnying in an _~~adorable~~_ atrocious manner completely unbefitting Harvey Specter’s mini-me as he extricated himself from his tangle of highlighters and earphone wires.

“How’s it feel being back where you belong, Rookie?”

“Harvey, what are you _doing_ here?”

“Oh, I don’t know; someone with my surname’s got their name on the door, so I figured I should probably check this joint out. Have you met him yet? He could almost be as _awesome_ as me.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure he is, but don’t you have somewhere better to be? Some client to schmooze or some billables to rack up - oh wait, name partners don't need billables, of course not.” Mike owed Harvey enough letting him crash at his impossible penthouse. Though, to be fair he really owed the job to Louis, nonetheless he wished he didn't have to put Harvey out of his way quite so much already, when he wasn't even exclusively working ~~for, or~~ with Harvey anymore. “You know, anything better, rather than stalking me? I’m not a dainty princess you know, I _have_ worked here before. Louis hasn’t made me need a therapist _quite yet_ … though I guess I shouldn't push it, seeing how Harold's gone.”

“Dainty princesses ain't got _diddly_ on you, and now you’re giving me orders, Mike? We’re not married _yet_ … I think my old office has gone to your head, maybe the pigpen’s better for productivity. More claustrophobia, less _vertigo_.”

Mike’s confusion turned to his best mimicry of Harvey’s _‘I’m-so-smug-I’m-Specter’_ look, leaning to pat a stack of stuffed files on the far left end of what was evidently a rudimentary mental assembly (or rather disassembly) line: “Yeah? Well say that to all these briefs I just completed for Louis and Jessica.”

“Impressive. And what about our Versalife problem?”

“Yeah I’m all over it.”

“Right. _All over it_ means you _don’t have dick_. Next time I see you, _have something_.”

“And next time you see me, _you better get me a ring_.” Harvey actually cracked a smile at that; this Mike was so far removed from the shell he’d had to nurse back with old-school Trek and tequila slammers that he couldn't muster up the irritation to even be privately annoyed at Mike, leave alone being exasperated at Mike’s insolence. This job did him wonders, and he’ll always owe Louis big time.

“How about Specter-Ross?” he asked, ~~only half~~  joking, as he made for the door with a last, _genuine_ smile flashed Mike’s way.

“You wish.”

~~_And maybe Harvey did. Probably not. But he most likely does._~~

“ _Harvey_ ,” Mike called, just as the glass door was swinging shut, and Harvey popped his head round the transparent glass walls looking  ~~nothing~~ completely like a cartoon character.

“Well?”

Mike picked his next words well, and it was worth all the shit of the last few months to watch Harvey smile his infectious _real_ grin again, breaking across his face with bright-sunshine-teeth and crinkly-sunray-wrinkles.

“All those _Prince Charmings_ ain't got squat on you either.”

“You’re goddamn right they don’t. I’ll see you at home, kid.”

Harvey patted the glass walls once as he headed off to be the best damn closer the city’s seen again, and telling their grandkids in the future, he remembers the highlighter spot on Mike’s cheek just as fondly and vividly as Mike remembers Harvey’s smile,with or without the puppy’s goddamn eidetic memory.


	3. Can't Sleep (?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harvey seriously considers offering Mike one of his Harvard sweatshirts, only so he doesn’t freeze to death at night of course; his chicken arms could do with a little fluff on them. Of course, what he does is nothing so domestic; he doesn't care about Mike, beyond that a hypothermic associate means a hardworking Harvey, and that doesn't sit right with his three-piece-clad supreme conscience. He returns to the living room, keeping the lights dimmed because 3am is no time for sanity, and wordlessly pours Mike some of his scotch, measuring two fingers for him, and three for himself.

Three rapid raps on the door.

“Harvey? _Harvey_? Let me _in_ ,dude, _c’mon_!”

No reply. _Goddamnit_. Mike fished out his phone, calling Harvey’s home number and hoping that the night Mike proofed Versalife till 3a.m. _wasn’t_ the night Harvey Specter decided to go on the goddamn prowl.

Before the call rung thrice, however, he was treated to the sight of New York’s favourite – well, _best_ , anyway – closer, just about managing to stifle a yawn as he opened his palatial mahogany door. And what a sight; hair freed from the pomade mask hanging in slick wisps down his forehead, his left collarbone showing through the stretched unbuttoned collar of a faded navy Henley, eyes lidded over the tetchy line between whiskey buzz and sleep, crow’s feet wedging them open with a sentiment which, if Mike didn’t know him better, he could’ve sworn looked like _concern_. This was a man so damn concerned he wouldn't even ask Mike for the $5 he forfeited every time he said _dude_.

Actually, no, it was probably Scotch buzz. Only the best for Harvey, what Mike was doing here was inexplicable.

"What the hell, Mike?”

Mike was too tired for this shit. He thumped the stack of briefs square into Harvey’s ~~not appealing don’t think about that muscled~~ hard chest with about the force of a kitten hitting a brick wall, offered up a barely-there smile, _g’night_ , and then nudged past him to the guest room, pulling the door behind him softly. No point properly waking Harvey up as well.

Harvey turned, following Mike with his eyes until he was just staring down the polished plain door, and murmured an audible, “ _goddamn puppy_ ”, placing the briefs on the coffee table before heading to his liquor cabinet to retrieve the last dredges of his Scotch, right under Mike’s appalling panda picture (one of the few things which sadly Harvey hadn’t been able to sneak into storage when Mike moved in, but it was his Grammy’s, so it went unmentioned, of course).

Harvey was just heading off to bed, living room lights _fading_ to off (" _switching’s_ " for Louis), when he heard shuffling steps as Mike emerged from his room in sweats and a ratty oversized A-shirt which can only have belonged to Trevor, _and isn’t that a though Harvey loathes_ , that Trevor still had his hold over Mike even if it was only to provide Mike comfort. That Mike was the sum of every best aspect of even the frankly deplorable company he’s kept, whilst Harvey is the cynical product of the worst he’s had to endure in his life.

Harvey seriously considers offering Mike one of his Harvard sweatshirts, only so he doesn’t freeze to death at night of course; his chicken arms could do with a little fluff on them. Of course, what he does is nothing so domestic; he doesn't _care_ about Mike, beyond that a hypothermic associate means a hardworking Harvey, and _that_ doesn't sit right with his three-piece-clad supreme conscience. He returns to the living room, keeping the lights dimmed because _3am is no time for sanity_ , and wordlessly pours Mike some of his scotch, measuring two fingers for him, and three for himself.

"Can't sleep, huh..."

"Is that a question or a statement, Harvey?" Mike actually manages to look bemused, despite the obvious tell of the slow blinks as he leans into Harvey, swigging enough scotch to follow up the look with an indignant sputter.

"Gaugh, that's goddamn awful!"

"That's cos you've no goddamn taste," Harvey smiled, patting Mike on the back as he set their tumblers on the coffee table and sat them down on the alarmingly expansive and comfortable couch. Despite Mike's insistence otherwise, Harvey assured him he didn't hire an interior designer for the penthouse, instead eclectically turning the place, as with everything around him, into a reflection of him and his taste. Classy, but comfortable, like his suits.

"Yeah, and you're goddamn lucky."

"How'd you figure that genius?"

"Had you not hired a pothead rookie with bad taste who fucks up every good chance he gets in life, I wouldn't now be taking up space in your penthouse and about to root around for the Star Trek original series Donna told me you owned on DVD and VCR, so at least we can marathon through the insomnia rather than resorting to the sleeping pills you left on the counter this morning by accident. It's cool, by the way, we all gotta switch off sometime."

Harvey had the decency to look abashed as he got up to retrieve and insert a DVD for the impromptu insomniac film night, still asserting, “Touche, kid. But for the record, you’re not going to ‘ _fuck this good chance up_ ’. I won’t let that happen, _m’kay Pup_?”

After Mike’s grateful smile in reply, it stills in the living room, no noise apart from the eternal tirades of James Tiberius Kirk and Spock breaking the tenuous bond  struck up between Harvey’s wordless praise and Mike’s wordless gratitude.

Eventually, Harvey’s knee knocks Mike’s, and stays there, because if you fall asleep all tangled up in each other anyway, what harm is a little knee-knocking anymore?


	4. Consider it a Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This day had been far too long already, and by Mike’s recent 3a.m. standards, 11p.m. was calling it an early night, so when he yawned openly hoping no one would notice it in empty offices and pitch-black skies, he was scared into a coughing fit by a strong grip on his shoulder which would’ve been almost painful were it not far-too-subtly kneading away at the knots formed from reading-and-red-bull sessions alone with his right hand…holding a highlighter, dammit, don’t get any ideas.

Mike rose just as the sun yawned wide over the New York skyline, both shaking awake their sleep-lidded eyes, and felt his ribs being crushed by a puppy on steroids. By puppy he meant fully grown bear of a man, and by steroids he meant the hideous ego complex and cocky smile which unmistakeably belonged to one Harvey Specter smirking down at him through messy and surprising curly bedhead-hair.

“Ugh, Harvey _git offa me_!”

The smile widened into a toothy grin. “Mmm, you’re mouthy in the morning.” _And handsy, I bet_.

“You forgot handsy.”

 _Jackpot_. “Maybe someday.”

“Haha, you _wish_.”

“Mmm.”

Though he had no serious intention of letting go of this pliant and sleep-mussed Harvey Specter, Mike figured if Harvey didn’t get off him soon, he’d be sleeping in a hospital bed next. “Off, Harvey. Us peasants do still have to make it in before Louis cuts us up into sandwiches for his fancy Earl Grey afternoon tea.”

Harvey in a completely counterintuitive mood was a very dangerous variable, as Mike found out when Harvey nestling further into his chest started doing entirely problematic things not too much further south, and using his bikers legs he managed to start shoving Harvey away from the _epicentre_ of the issue, at the very least. “Mike what –”

“C’mon Harvey!” _Please don’t let him see…or feel…or anything! Think of Grammy!_

~~_God no,_ don’t think of _Grammy!_~~

“…Fine.”

Harvey’s smile didn’t so much drop as plummet, no one but Mike Ross noticing sadly how he crept back into his slick shell, as he flipped up the strands covering his face, and reformed them into the signature quiff-helmet he accessorized with Zegna suits and his _no-one’s-gonna-see-me-sweat_ façade every day.

Unfortunately (or not), Mike decided to go for one last shove at Harvey, just to be sure, _precisely_ when Harvey dejectedly started loosening his grasp on the one thing anchoring just about a quarter of him to the couch in the first place, and consequently, Harvey Specter woke up roughly to a sore ass _for the first time in a long while_ , along with weakly hopeful morning wood which he decided to pointedly _not_ bring to their mutual attention.

“Goddamnit, Mike, warn a man!”

“Shit, Harvey sor –” Mike began, before he erupted in a short sqeak of laughter, containing it again till the environment was saturated enough for Harvey to start giggling as well, both of them cackling like they’d done so many days ago with a bad situation and a bag of coffee-cart weed. It was infectious enough that neither of them commented when Mike keeled out of the couch and essentially into Harvey’s lap, wearing a Harvard sweatshirt exchanged between beers last night, whilst Harvey barely felt the cold, half-naked as he was. “Ah, oh, my God, _damn_ , Harvey, I don’t know if it’s harder falling on you or the floor!”

“You say that, yet _I’m_ the one with a fractured tailbone.”

“N’aww,” Mike said, in his half-aware state even daring to poke the tip of Harvey’s nose and make him go cross-eyed for a second, “you’re such an _old man_ ; did you even go see your doctor?”

Harvey rolled his eyes and gave him the signature you’re-beneath-me-peasant look, and growled “Not too old to _whup your goddamn ass_ if you don’t get off me and get in that shower this goddamn second, Mike.”

 _Wait, what now?_ Mike was suddenly very confused; Harvey was too damn good at unsettling people.  “But I thought you said –”

“Just go.”

Mike deliberated, then decided not to question the sudden turn of heart. Maybe an open and vulnerable Harvey Specter that early in the morning was too much for the universe to handle _quite yet_. He crouched up onto the balls of his feet and then shook himself awake as he stood up, heading for the generous bathroom rather than the guest room shower with a swagger in his step and a deliberate swaying of his hips.

“Yes, Sir!” He said, turning around to wink at Harvey while walking backwards.

“Good boy.” Harvey murmured, hoping fruitlessly that Mike wouldn’t catch that. Glancing at his watch as Mike slipped through the door, he called “Ray gets here in 20 minutes, you’re coming in with me today, _so suit the hell up_ , Pup!”

* * *

 

This day had been far too long already, and by Mike’s recent 3a.m. standards, 11p.m. was calling it an _early night_ , so when he yawned openly hoping no one would notice it in empty offices and pitch-black skies, he was scared into a coughing fit by a strong grip on his shoulder which would’ve been almost painful were it not far-too-subtly kneading away at the knots formed from reading-and-red-bull sessions alone with his right hand… _holding a highlighter, dammit, don’t get any ideas._

“Mmm, who made you such a good masseuse?” he said between steadily subsiding hacks of his lungs.

“For your information, I’m the _best damn masseuse_ this city’s ever seen, and it was Mei-Ling down at that Thai place I was telling you about.”

“That’s how you get your kicks, is it? ‘Barely-legal and hot’ before pot?”

“Gotta get them somehow and I’m not getting them risking life and limb on a death-trap bike like you. Speaking, of which, c’mon we’re getting outta here.”

“ _We_? I still gotta –”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not having you get back at 4 in the morning again when we’ve gotta be up at 6, wrap it up and you can continue someplace where I can see you actually eat something in the last 4 days and make sure you won’t faint in the middle of the road biking to the penthouse. C’mon, get your shit and come home with me.”

Harvey and Mike blinked in unison, but both waited for the other to mention the unsaid, so after a brief silence Harvey decided to continue like nothing had happened at all.

“Aw Harvey Specter cares about me.”

“Good luck convincing anybody of that. C’mon, I can feel myself _greying_ here, hurry up.”

“You sure you don’t dye your hair already, old man?”

Harvey’s eyes took on a dangerous glint “You say that again, _I’ll spank you_.”

“Is that a promise?” Mike asked, as he stacked all the briefs in his thankfully-secure briefcase and made to leave his office with a smugly grinning Harvey in tow.

“Oh wait, I forgot: you’re a _nice_ pussy.”

“You’re goddamn right I am.”

“In that case, consider it a promise.”


	5. Briefs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well _that_ changes my plans, though I can’t say _those_ were the briefs I was expecting from you.”
> 
> Mike replied, face red under the bed but his voice surprisingly steady.
> 
> “What were you expecting, then?”
> 
> “Uh, I’m gonna say something stupid like J Crew.”
> 
> “Close. Calvin Klein, actually.”
> 
> “Goddamn Rookie, should've known.”

Harvey Specter was a complete stranger to awkwardness. It just wasn’t his _thing_ , as Mike would probably put it. _His_ thing was generally playing fast and loose, with cars and women respectively (though the attracted-to-Mike thing was really wreaking havoc with the unpredictable nature of that last part). So, far be it from Mike to be uncomfortable during the ride home (divider up, Ray either mocking him for his embarrassment or just leaving him to wallow in self-pity) having put himself in uncomfortable positions many times, more often than not for Harvey’s sake, Harvey just kept chanting ‘home; _home?_ Home _._ ” to himself trying to figure out when the hell exactly his penthouse had become _home_ , even to him, having never considered it more than 3 glass walls and a bed for one-night stands (and an Ensign pyjama top which Mike had accidentally seen him in once, he was sure of it, though the associate didn’t care to ever bring it up, he really was wise, that kid).

He must’ve been mouthing the word silently and repeatedly, however, because Mike’s look quickly went from confused, to amused to incredibly _fond_.

“C’mon Harvey, it’s not a big deal. Yeah, you called it home. It _is_ your home…isn’t it?”

Harvey replied with a weakly sighed “Yeah, guess so.”

“Do you wear Ensign shirts anywhere else I should know about? Y’know, in case you’re about to get profiled for Most Eligible Bachelor? ‘Cos I know Donna would go ahead and just let you look _sexy_ in that stretchy gropey fabric, it’d make a nice cover pic-”

“Goddamnit, I _knew_ you saw me! Why didn’t you say-”

“-anything? Cos, if you’ve noted anything about me, it’s that I, unlike you, am not a _hard-ass_.”

“I guess I would've noticed if I could see past that massive goddamn memory you got, y’know, and those twinkly blue freakin’ kawaii eyes-”

“Whoa, Harvey, stop right there.”

Harvey seized up, his smile-scrunched face going slack worrying about having pushed it just a bit too far, when Mike continued:

“You know what _kawaii is?_ How the hell do you know what kawaii is?”

“Do I need to remind you, name partner picks the conversation topic, rookie shuts his goddamn cakehole?”

“Whoa, _whoa_ , hold up, you’re into _Supernatural_? Are you one of the tumblr BNFs? Was it the _gay angel_ or Crowley-”

“I’m a Star Trek fan, Mike, I am familiar with the rudimentary concepts of overzealous fandoms like Trek back then and ‘SPN’ now, particularly when Reboot punks think Bendydick Cumonmybaps is ‘the real’ Khan, that scrawny blond git with the tight ass is Captain Kirk, and that Pavel Chekhov is a _kawaii_ motherfucker-”

Mike, by now wheezing with giggles at Harvey’s tirade, held up his hands in appeasement “Ok, God, whatever dude, I wish Louis’ Dictaphone was here right now!”

“Mike, I am serious, with my serious face on. Never utter the word ‘dude’, and the syllables’ Lou-is-s-Dic-anything’, in front of me ever again, unless you want that dollar bill suit barfed on! Now c’mon, we’ll continue this in the elevator.” Harvey extricated himself like a snake charmed out of its bullet-proofed box, patting the car to let Ray get back to his kids once Mike joined him in his private elevator, both men promptly turning to face the one-way glass as they rose above heads and roofs all over the city. Mike’s voice was exuberant, but a lot lower, perhaps because they were packed in the lift, or because Harvey was reading way too much into the situation.

“Seriously, man, that’s low, I even wear vests now!”

“Yeah, yeah, Rookie…”

“Whatever happened to ‘brothers’, Harvey?” Mike turned with a mock pleading look in his eyes which Harvey would give the world for were he a lesser goddamn machine.

“Well-”

“If nothing else, you’re the one taking me home, what does that say about you?” The game, if it wasn’t on earlier, was goddamn _on_ now, Mike daring him with a wicked glint in his eyes.

Harvey couldn't possibly break eye contact now, so doing what he did best, he went on the offensive, sidling right up to Mike so he was eye-level with the 11pm stubble on Harvey’s jaw, and dropping to whisper into Mike’s ear as his stubble scraped Mike’s jaw eliciting the most deliciously imperceptible of sighs; He growled, low as the reverb on the double bass accompanying his dad on the records,

“Guess I’m just a sucker for _lost causes_.”

Slithering the sibilance of the last words, Harvey withdrew to look Mike dead on in the eye, then loosened his tie as the elevator bell rang to let them know they’d arrived. Mike, stock still, only thought to move when he realised the limitations of his view weren't being set by him blinking furiously as he’d thought, but by the lift doors closing, whereupon he hurriedly slammed a hand in the door and slipped through the closing doors which almost caught the end of his tie.

“Hurry up, kid, I’m doing dinner in half an hour, and if you want some of that goddamn air mailed steak, I’d suggest you get some goddamn briefs and join me.” Harvey’s voice, though muffled by the sound of his door and the clanging of _what had to be his belt buckle_ falling on the floor, made pretty clear that though amused, he was not in a mood to be fucked with.

“But – I thought you said-”

“I promised food, I’m doing food, you do gruntwork, there’s a _good boy_!”

Mike sighed, this was a pretty good deal, and he’d heard stories about Harvey’s steak from Donna, though her descriptions always left him wondering whether they were both talking about _quite_ the same thing, if her insistent repetition of ‘ _juicy_ ’ and ‘ _succulent_ ’ were anything to go by.

He did, however, drop by his room for a quick change of clothes, which left him with the unexpected predicament of realising that the downsides of having your laundry done for you are that you get no say in when they go or come back; Mike used to exchange clothes in and out of his laundry basket all the time at his place before he got a chance to wash it every Saturday night. As it were, all of his sweats being probably dry-cleaned at some fancy-ass place downtown, Mike was now left in the uncomfortable position of being reduced quite literally to his briefs as he rummaged to find the pair he kept in his emergency duffel which was more holes than fabric and now at least a size too small and too short on him, leaving little to the imagination.

He didn’t need to worry about that when he heard a loud breath escape behind him, closed his eyes, and wished illogically that he hadn’t just _left the door open_ for a casually clothed Harvey to accidentally stumble onto a _lovely rear view_ of his associate kneeling with his head under the bed, his ass covered just about in black briefs. Ever the optimist, however, he decided to give Harvey a show because _why the hell not, they never really had ‘boundaries’ to begin with_ , and wiggled his ass, _sensually_ , in a slow curve of 8 which, had he been able to see it, would’ve earnt him a slack-jawed predatory look presently sported by his boss.

The aforementioned spoke up, his voice like the rustle of gravel, “Well _that_ changes my plans, though I can’t say _those_ were the briefs I was expecting from you.”

Mike replied, face red under the bed but his voice surprisingly steady.

“What were you expecting, then?”

“Uh, I’m gonna say something stupid like J Crew.”

“Close. Calvin Klein, actually.”

“Goddamn Rookie, shoulda known,” Harvey snorted, “Anyway, enough with the lap dance, you need any help?”

“Yeah, I could do with some clothes right now, I think that’d be step one, then I can get into those briefs _you_ were talking about-”

“Oh, I don’t know, I think the biker’s ass looks pretty goddamn good in these already, take them off and this” he said, motioning really for his own benefit to the situation at hand, “ this constitutes a sexual harassment suit.”

“Har _veeey-_ ”

Harvey grinned, shaking his head at the kid who, despite his intelligence really was just a baby goat kid stumbling around on lanky legs, faking it in cheap dollar bill suits (or less) till he made it.

“Alright, okay, fine, I’ll go get you some sweats, but on the condition that we agree that this is not my ‘home’, you never breathe a word of that to anybody unless you want me passing around these pictures of your tight ass, because I’m sure you never heard me say that, it was _probably_ just all that lovey-dovey sentiment crap you carry around in your head which made it sound like I said ‘ _home_ ’, when I really just said ‘ _place’_.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You wanna risk it, I see.”

“You haven’t even taken photos.”

Well that was stupid, Mike thought mentally face-palming himself as he heard two,three loud clicks of the phone camera.

“Have now.”

“… _Fine_. Y’know, whatever Harvey, you didn’t say it.”

“ _Thank_ you, I see investment banking taught you a thing or two about something akin to arbitrage.” Harvey replied, instantly deleting those pictures. He may want Mike’s ass but he was not going to abuse his power and the kid’s trust in doing so. _Not that Mike needed to know that_.

“Just FYI, I’m sure the eidetic memory will always remember ‘home’, for the record...You’re not the Tin Man, Harvey.”

“No, I guess I’m not. I’m the goddamned Wizard and I’m gonna magic you up some lovely red heels and a dress if you don’t shut up, whaddaya say, _Dorothy_?” Harvey said as he made to fetch the smallest set of sweats he owned.

“…Shutting up now. Clothes, _pretty please_?”

“Since you asked so nicely, _maybe_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the delay, though I have posted this extra long, if rougher-at-the-edges-and-hastily-written chapter to attempt to make up for it! As ever, drop me a line and let me know what you think.  
> -MS


	6. Not Uncomfortable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Anyway, you sure you’re ok?” he asked, placing the back of his palm to Harvey’s forehead, “Maybe you’re pyrexial? Any hallucinations? _Delirium_?”
> 
> Harvey sighed. _So much for_ _honest emotional revelations_.
> 
> “Come on, _Mike_ , you always force me to give a _crap_ about you just so I can stop you tripping over your _own_ goddamn feet and maybe be even a _tenth_ of the great lawyer you can be, _degree or no degree_ , and you’re really surprised? Hell, I _know_ I’m emotionally unavailable, and I like it _best_ that way, but _you’re_ the _affection swami_ , you’re supposed to be _good_ at picking up on that shit…” he replied, shaking his head and turning to look at the water, Mike following his eye line because sometimes it was easier to stop your heart feeling like it would rend in two if you stopped looking at the man you loved. Well that was the theory, anyway.

Mike Ross, safely ascertained within the last hour to have no modicum of shame, sat, swamped even in Harvey’s smallest Varsity Sweats, on his balcony, while Harvey himself had eventually slumped to lying with his head in Mike’s lap, as the chlorinated water in his modest heated infinity pool lapped at both men’s calves, darkening and dampening the rolled up cuffs of their sweatpants. They determinedly continued proofing, neon highlighters racing in the moonless night and the pool lit up by randomly placed lights like constellations in the water, interrupted only by Mike’s whistling or Harvey humming one of his dad’s songs. There was no remark to be made upon Mike absent-mindedly loosening gelled back strands of dark hair, or Harvey tracing the Starfleet insignia just above Mike’s knee.

“Hey… I know I’ve been, well, a bit of a _hard-ass_ ever since you came back, but…I don’t know, over lunch or sometime, have you been back,  _there_ , yet? I don’t know, even just to pick up some clothes?” Harvey murmured, hoping either to start a nonchalant dialogue, or for Mike to allow the question to drift away on the breeze.

“Look, Harvey, I’m… I’m sorry I keep borrowing your things, but I’ll be out of your _gelled_ hair –”

“ _Mike_ ,” Harvey warned gently, “we both know _that_ is not the issue at hand; hell, _that_ isn’t even a goddamned issue, _period_. What’s mine’s yours if you need it and all that crap. So, _again_ , have you been back, or thought about what you want to do?”

Mike sighed and nodded, “Thanks, and for what it’s worth _I’m sorry_ , I shouldn't take it out on you. But, yeah. I stopped by earlier, Friday lunch, but, Harvey, she-Rach- She was _there_ – I can’t – I’m not staying there, I can’t keep it. Look, I don’t know _where_ to go, but if I can just crash here _for a week_ –”

“Mike, take as long as you like, that room doesn’t see much action anyway,” Harvey grinned wryly.

“–if I could just stay a week, then I’ll finally be out of your hair.”

“You really don’t have to Mike, it’s all good. Hey, if you want help, I know the guy, and by guy I mean _me_ , who used to live on the third floor here, before he got an awesome associate and got promoted to Senior Partner –”

“Not in that order, and _you think I’m awesome_?”

“ _Not_ in that order, and _did_ I say _awesome_ , oops, must’ve meant awful!”

“Yeah, you must've," Mike retorted, winking genially. "Freudian Slip, then, I know you _loooove_ me –”

“Do I? I might, I might not? Let’s just say I _tolerate_ you for now. Anyway, I know that place’s a hell of a lot nicer than your little loveshack,” Harvey said, wrinkling his nose in adorable mock-disgust as Mike snorted wistfully, “and with your little spree working for the devil incarnate –”

“That isn’t _you_? I’m pretty sure that’s you.”

“Aw, you calling me devilishly handsome, why _thank you young man_! Nonetheless, with the savings from your banking stint –“

“How do you know how much my savings are?”

Counting on his fingers to illustrate the point, “I know you, I play the man, plus Donna –”

“ _Donna_.”

“ –knows everything. Again, besides the point, _we’re really getting distracted here_ ; have you swapped your memory with a goldfish recently? Although, I suppose if you did that you’d be _too goddamned dumb_ to remember it. _Anyway,_ I’ll talk to my realtor to see if it’s still up for sale, I’m sure I heard some whispers between doormen to that effect recently, then maybe you could ‘sell up, take the rest of your savings and look to buy a place around here in goddamn  _Vulcan_ with all us suits’.”

And that stopped Mike dead in his goddamned mile-a-minute mental tracks. He paused to just look at Harvey, who seemed completely unfazed by having remembered Mike’s words _verbatim_ , and realised _he really had nothing to say in that situation_ , so he opted for the next best thing he could think of.

“Hey, if it helps, or hell even if it _doesn’t_ , at least you’re no goddamn Spock; deny it all you want, but _you care_ , too goddamn much sometimes, about Donna, Jessica, everyone who’s close to you, and they’re _tools_ if they don’t appreciate the rarity of it.”

It stilled between them briefly as highlighters slowed and ceased their raspy journeys across pages and everything devolved to a pinpoint moment between Mike’s and Harvey’s eyes.

“ _If it’s what you’re really asking, or saying,_ I guess I care about you. Yeah, I’ll go with that.”

Mike snorted, possibly the worst but also the only thing he could respond with, half in mirth and half shocked.

“Did I break the great and unshakeable Harvey Reginald Specter, JD?”

“Reginald – wait, _Donna_.”

“Donna,” Mike affirmed with a sombre nod which placed quiet grins on two sets of lips, “Anyway, you sure you’re ok?” he asked, placing the back of his palm to Harvey’s forehead, “Maybe you’re pyrexial? Any hallucinations? _Delirium_?”

Harvey sighed. _So much for_ _honest emotional revelations_.

“Come on, _Mike_ , you always force me to give a _crap_ about you just so I can stop you tripping over your _own_ goddamn feet and maybe be even a _tenth_ of the great lawyer you can be, _degree or no degree_ , and you’re really surprised? Hell, I _know_ I’m emotionally unavailable, and I like it _best_ that way, but _you’re_ the _affection swami_ , you’re supposed to be _good_ at picking up on that shit…” he replied, shaking his head and turning to look at the water, Mike following his eye line because sometimes it was easier to stop your heart feeling like it would rend in two if you stopped looking at the man you loved. Well that was the theory, anyway.

Harvey was about to take a literal rain check on the whole balcony situation when he felt a moist droplet, then two, land on his right temple and start drifting towards _his ear_ , but he looked up to see they were only sourced at Mike’s eyes, at which point he made to get up from Mike’s lap because if the conversation was affecting the kid that much, the Puppy at least deserved a _very unmistakeably manly man-hug­_ ,if he had to put up with unexpected emotion on Harvey’s behalf.

“Look, Mike…wait, hear me out,” he said, as he saw Mike move to speak, silencing him with a pat on his right leg once he’d sat up, crouching to the balls of his feet and motioning for Mike to do the same as he stood up, “you don’t _have_ to, you know…I mean, I know _you know_ , or have a fair idea, of what you mean, you know, to me, and if _that makes you uncomfortable_ –” Harvey drifted off as his teeth worried the right corner of his bottom lip, switching the pool lights off after picking up both their piles of briefs _which they can finish in the morning, there are more important matters at hand_ , almost disappearing into the living room through the sliding doors to give Mike some space, if he needs it to think, or vent, or just storm out preferably _without_ it compromising their friendship.

But Harvey’s backing away, and closing in, like every other damn time they get too close, physically, or verbally, or even if they look at each other too long with the same intensity and the same _­I’m-seeing-you-on-me_ intent, and Mike has lost any access to any vocabulary of any goddamn language, even _Italian_ , but he can’t let this go. They’re too honest to be blindsided by the issue anymore, and too self-denying to ever approach the issue again if it doesn’t work out now, so he makes, for the umpteenth time this evening, the best of the horrendous catch-22, stopping Harvey and firmly urging him face-to-face again with a clear tug at his shoulder.

Harvey was almost there, _almost_ looking him in the eyes and Mike saw loss, like when Harvey talked about Scottie –well actually no, like when Harvey talked about his _dad_ , and Mike really couldn’t stand being lost to Harvey when he’s throwing himself into the unknown for his sake.

He reached up, and _very_ very close, until Harvey’s warm breath fanned his face and Harvey’s heart was pounding in his own chest, beating out an up-tempo tattoo. He gripped the shoulder he'd tugged, allowing Harvey to elbow him away if that was still what he wanted _despite all this_ , but declaring exactly how and where he wanted him, and ghosted his open mouth over Harvey’s lips. Once. Twice and rapidly thrice again, this time lingering but for a moment of shared warmth, waiting for an invitation, permission to _take_ what was right there.

He breathed into Harvey’s mouth, hoping the words could anchor Harvey to him, “ _I’m_ _not_ uncomfortable, and _you’re_ getting slow on the uptake, _old man_.”


	7. Cabernet Sauvignon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  The high pitched whine Mike emited as they ride out the cooling aftershocks is surprisingly far more potent to Harvey than the kick he gets with every Tesla and every court domination and every well-placed punch, so _maybe_ Mike really was something which even Harvey Specter was made to _love_ , if he was capable of it, and _maybe_ tomorrow when Mike asked to move out, he would make stupid excuses to keep him here in the abating breaths and lazily traced doodles on Mike’s calming chest, because owning Mike, _and maybe being a little bit owned by him_ , was possibly the prize Harvey’d been playing for all along.
> 
> And Harvey Specter _always won_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm awfully sorry about the delay, but I was ill to the point of coughing up blood, and then the weekend happened and I got very busy very quickly, but I'm not going to be around tomorrow, so I thought best upload this in any eventuality.
> 
> I'm really not certain of whether you will like how this has turned out, so let me know what you think; it isn't quite as full-on as I, and some of you, might have liked, but _that_ has to be saved till after the plot development, so I apologise for that in advance, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.
> 
> -MS

They stood, sweatshirt to sweatshirt with dripping wet sweatpant-cuffs which left splatters on the wooden balcony, breathing slow dulcet curls of frosty air and warm smoking breaths dwelling in the millimetre span of Mike’s tongue tentatively peeking out to lick at the right corner of Harvey’s mouth. He soothed the bloody bottom lip Harvey had worried with his teeth, as his left hand deftly trawled over the stubbled jaw and loosened hair to finally festoon itself at the nape of Harvey’s neck, pulling an as yet unresponsive Harvey towards him so that when Mike finally crushed his lips to Harvey’s, blue eyes sparkling, reflected in a wide open, earthy pair, he was secured to him well enough for Harvey to deftly flip them with just a cleverly placed hand to Mike’s back, pinning Mike to the glass door with as much of his weight as he trusted not to break the kid’s hummingbird-beating chest.

Maybe he should have stopped thinking about him as a _kid_ when Mike decided to run with Harvey’s affirmative, and push right back into him and into _his warmth_ , mouths open and teeth clacking and tongues _pressing_ against each other in a splendid infusion of breaths and slivers of sweat and the building _smell_ of sex, as Harvey ducked down a little to give back as goddamn good as he was getting, and oh, _fu_ – where had Mike _learned_ that, taking advantage of his only _slightly_ diminutive stature to lean his head to the left and _scrape_ his incisors down Harvey’s jaw. He placed fairy-light kisses to the underside of it, ghosting open mouthed barely-there heated breaths down the side of Harvey’s neck as he held on tighter to Mike and pressed fervent kisses to his temple, and then ones so soft the intensity of the moment slowed to a simmer, so soft that Mike’s eyelids fluttered closed and Harvey’s eyes widened in wonder as he touched kisses to each wavering covering in turn.

When he opened them again to look directly into Harvey’s dazzling, lopsided, Cheshire Cat grin and crinkled-leaf eyes, he stared them down and kept them on him as he ducked deliberately to Harvey’s suprasternal notch, lapping and kissing softly here as if he was doing the most expensive shot in the world from the little dip at the base of Harvey’s neck which was now turning a lovely shade of _bruised_ , even on Harvey’s dark skin.

“ _Look_ at me, Harvey,” Mike commanded when Harvey’s eyes threatened to shut, “Keep _looking_ at me.”

“Huh…like, like I could ever _stop…Ahh_ – Mike –”

“Shush, ‘m _workin_ ’. “ Mike breathed out, as the hand at Harvey’s shoulder sneaked around his back and under his sweatshirt, fingers playing out piano scales swiftly around to rest between the two men, and Mike rested his palm flat to press upwards against Harvey’s lowest rib. Harvey let out a hoarse, staggered moan, arching further forward and grinding up against an evidently _equally eager_ Mike, who languidly rolled his hips up to meet Harvey’s, causing both men to groan, loud and low, swallowed up by the light-bulb-lit New York skyline.

“Not that I’m, uh, I’m _not interrupting_ , Mike, really…but I’m not taking off my sweatshirt out here…c’mon in?”

Harvey’s loose grip tightened on the briefs, and he was glad they were just drafts, because clients expected everything to be perfect and served to them like they were Titans on earth, and they really liked their legal documents uncrumpled whenever possible. _Meanwhile_ , his other hand clasped around the lithe wrist under his sweatshirt, fingers wandering over veins to slot themselves in between softer ones like that was where they had to be, where they belonged. Mike needed to know that they belonged.

"Mike-" Harvey whispered, intending fully to tell him that, but Mike just gripped Harvey's intertwined fingers hard, reassuring and maybe even a _promise_ in that slick sweaty meeting of palms, easily sidestepping Harvey and leading him through the glass doors into the now cooled room.

Time seemed to condense a bit once insulated by the one-way floor-to-ceiling windows, the automatic doors sliding closed. The moment Harvey tossed the files on the chaise adjacent to his bed, all bets were off, and Mike was very much _on_ him, scrabbling to remove a sweatshirt off a faux-offended Harvey, and shoving him onto the bed. Harvey looked down the bed with a raised left eyebrow, partly amused and  _somewhat_  turned on, adjusting himself on the covers so that Mike could strip off his own top and crawl into the warm space between Harvey’s legs, slithering purposely _chest to chest_ with Harvey, warm hearts syncopated in a heady balmy rhythm as Mike ground up the last inches against Harvey through their sweats.

Neither of them were going to get any closer, any more open, this night, because tomorrow was time for actual thought, actual consideration about _what they were_ and what they were going to do next and _this really didn’t need to be any more awkward_ than it was already going to be, so Harvey took this night to memorize everything that could be undone in a few harsh words in tomorrow’s blinding sunlight, and Mike did pretty much the same, both holding out even from blinking, because this was a moment too precious to lose.

As breaths quickened, hands trembled and even Harvey’s designer mattress protested against the vigorous movement of two bodies in tandem and Mike’s grasp on the headboard on Harvey’s right side of the bed, Harvey’s hands snaked round, one to secure Mike’s mouth to his in an indulgent invasion of tongues and the lingering taste of the steak’s Cabernet Sauvignon, and the other to trail softly along Mike’s arching back and hold him close by his tailbone, both men sighing raspy half-roasted moans into the resounding silence of the top floor as their hips stuttered in succulent pleasure.

Between hasty breaths, Harvey fondly considered that Mike was too damn sarky for his own good,  even now pressing out, “ _Quiet type_ , Har…Harvey-ah, _fuck_ , goddamn y- Harvey, really? You, y’know, you can, uh, righ-right _there_ , _ohfuckyes,_ you can –”

“Shut uh… mmhhh, _shut up_ , Rookie, or I promise I’ll stop _right now_.”

“Fuck, _oh fuck_ , God, Harvey please, _ah_ , shutting the hell up, c-can do, just, oh fuck _I love y_ -oh, shit, no, I love _this_ , just there, _uhh_ -”, and then he keened, his eyes wider and his pupils almost eclipsing the sky in his eyes and Harvey _dragged_ the craning head back to look at Mike as he came, thighs trembling, and threading the hand on the headboard into Harvey’s hair again as he collapsed, teasing Harvey into following him very shortly with a gasped, “ _Damnit, Mike…_ so fucking _good for me_ -”and a final duck into the crevice between Mike’s neck and his bony shoulder which ended in a huge indigo bruise which even borrowing Harvey’s spread collars wouldn’t cover tomorrow.

 The high pitched whine Mike emited as they ride out the cooling aftershocks is surprisingly far more potent to Harvey than the kick he gets with every Tesla and every court domination and every well-placed punch, so _maybe_ Mike really was something which even Harvey Specter was made to _love_ , if he was capable of it, and _maybe_ tomorrow when Mike asked to move out, he would make stupid excuses to keep him here in the abating breaths and lazily traced doodles on Mike’s calming chest, because owning Mike, _and maybe being a little bit owned by him_ , was possibly the prize Harvey’d been playing for all along.

And Harvey Specter _always won_.

Even if the emotionally unavailable dick needed the assurance of _limpet_ -Mike’s faked soft snores to breathe “I _goddamn_ love you too,” into the room like the moment would shatter if he spoke too loudly.

Mike held onto Harvey a bit tighter, smiling just out of Harvey's sight into the mussed, minty-scented hair behind his ear.


	8. Purposelessly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Mike understood what Harvey trusted him with. He understood Harvey hadn’t just trusted him with fucking him, or with loving him, but trusted that he’d allow Harvey to _look_ at him like he was doing right now, a sweet wavering fondness as he pulled Mike up by short ruffled hairs to kiss him long and smooth and slow and purposelessly like he could do this any time and all the time, like he would make it his aim in life to please Mike and ask only for the pleasure of the job well done in return.
> 
> “You know I love you too.”
> 
> “Mmm.”
> 
> Mike withdrew to look him in the eyes, all seriousness with a wicked glint: “At least if anyone now says you have a giant stick up your ass-”
> 
> “ _Not that gigantic_.”

Mike awoke to oppressive heat, sunlight reflecting blindingly blond, and then downy soft at the nape of his neck, and a warm loose grasp securing his waist while a muscular leg sidled next to his, hitching at the join of their hips. He'd heard of bad ideas, but this was most definitely _the worst idea this city'd ever seen_. Best case scenario, even if Harvey was the _tiniest_ bit into him, this had probably not been out of anything but pity, and there was no way that Mike was going to be able to put up with, or live down, the sleazy movie references or the petty easy jibes he knew Harvey'd throw his way, callously, like _they_ didn't matter. So, grudgingly arriving to the harsh Friday morning conclusion that the 'walk of shame' was his best bet to get out of here, no questions asked, Mike opened his left eye, warily peering just over the edge of the all-enveloping duvet.

He was greeted by the sight of a smile wrinkled, stifled yawn scrunching up the crow's feet around Harvey's midnight eyes, as his other hand reached in the infinitesimal distance between them to thread through and ruffle Mike's hair until he lost all real resolve of leaving, contentedly sighed and slowly blinked both his eyes open to look at the great sleep-softened, suit-less Specter.

Mike, however, had _perfected_ his recovery from hopelessly intoxicating situations _down to a record time,_ since spilling all his weed and his entire life story to Harvey Specter, and so forced himself to shut his eyes again, removing the sleep blurred filter and taking a deep breath, in lieu of spitting out the sentimental soliloquy brewing in his brain. What Harvey murmured last night, he did believing in Mike's catalepsy, and Mike was damned if he was going to let the clarity of dawn rescind that declaration, eidetic memory or not.

"Harv-"

"Mike-"

"Look, if you want, _I'll just_ leave-"

" _Damnit_ Mike, _look at me_ ," Harvey commanded, because _he_ didn't beg. His limbs constricted comfortably around Mike, cocooning him further in this hopeless moment.

"Give me just a day, to clear out, Harvey, I promise-"

And Harvey's mouth slanted at that in judgement, an imperceptible shaking of his head, and he just had to stop that train of thought with his slow, eager, _open_ mouth against Mike’s, tasting the dry, fading sleep at the corners of his lips, and laving over the delicate cupid's bow before grazing his teeth over the flushing bottom lip, for all the times Mike's lip dropped them both in shit and for the one time but for which they'd never have met. Mike reacted to _that_ like a recoiling snake, wrapping his arm around Harvey's dorsal muscles, opening his mouth, and breathing, warm and wet, against Harvey.

Their tongues met, Harvey's retreating at Mike's insistence, a battle of dominance in kitten licks which Harvey _clearly_ let Mike win, allowing him to clamber onto Harvey tangled in limbs and sheets, so that Harvey had the underdog upper-hand of probing again at last night's lovely bruise on Mike's neck.

The soft silky shifting in the room was eclipsed by a breathy, resonant, " _Ohh-_ " which could've rung out in the entirety of New York through those goddamn glass window-walls, for all they both cared.

" _Oh,_ is goddamn right." Harvey said with gleeful satisfaction, as Mike's rolled-up eyes lolled back, slightly befuddled, to meet his, Mike leaning purposely in and up against him for a saliva-slick and sinful kiss which made both men profane loudly, patently contented.

"Har- _Harvey_ …" Mike stuttered out, still hesitant. He held Mike close, and careful, and stilled to secure his gaze to Mike's in sheer wonderment, at how sure he was of the inevitable clusterfuck waiting to happen. Then Harvey Specter spoke clear and deep, loudly and quite unmistakeably like tidal waves changing the surface of a rock face monument forever.

"Fuck me, Mike."

Mike's eyes widened with the comical ' _Seriously, dude?'_ ' which he daren't verbalise, to which Harvey blinked his affirmation deliberately and slowly, with a _closer's smile_ coating his lips, which gently chased Mike's shock slacked ones with a soft, cocksure peck.

Mike’s hand trawled through the trimmed trail running down Harvey’s abdomen, growing bolder as the kiss grew brazen, and recalling vaguely having discarded their sweats sometime last night, his fingers found no impediment to his access of Harvey’s dick, flushed and leaking and, if for no other occasion but now, his. Harvey’s eyes rolled half-lidded, his jaw slackened against Mike’s pursed-shut lips and his hips rolled languidly when Mike started tracing down the darkening veins, Harvey stretching out along his right hip to maximise this glorious contact as Mike loosely encircled his foreskin and tentatively started a smooth slide, back and forth, as his timid smile collided his teeth incongruously against Harvey’s.

“Y-you know…you know, we’re a _goddamn omnishambles_ …This is…just-” Mike stammered out between increasingly confident strokes, palm and fingers grazing over Harvey’s balls and probing, eliciting a periodic hitch in his breathing which only staggered the blossoming smile on the man’s Merlot-tinted lips.

“Mi- _hike, sonofabitch stop that for a se-second,_ if that quote was supposed to tell me you have a thing for older men then I swear to God-”

“I don’t think even God can _stop_ me fucking you now, _fuck Harvey you’re fucking tight_ , and I-I guess I _do_ if, _fuck when’s the last time you got laid_ , if by ‘older’ you mean ‘ _powerful charming motherfucker_ ’ and by ‘men’ you’re referring to yourself or George Clooney, exclusively.”

“ _You’re a goddamn brownnoser_ ,” Harvey said, pulling him down to place a kiss on Mike’s nose which definitely didn’t make Mike want to cry, _nope it just made his nose itch that’s all_ , then recoiling with his _$500-for-how-many-suits_ look, “You’d fuck a married man?”

“Ted Philips.”

“ _Touché._ ”

“Ooh, did you?”

“You’d best believe I did. Now will you _get a move on touché-ing_ my ass, I’m getting blue balls here!”

Mike quirked aside a corner of his mouth and shook his head with his signature sneaky-wrestler smile, whispering “ _Nu-uh, got a better idea_ ,” and then began kissing down Harvey’s chest, taking his sweet time laving over clavicles and nipples and _rimming_ Harvey’s navel like a pornstar’s pay-per-view preview of what he was going to do to Harvey’s ass, which made his gravelly moan reverberate in Mike’s heart like infrasonic bass. He slithered, sucking sloppily along Harvey’s dick, and licking a broad flat plane curling his tongue up the slit, as both men watched the precum leak from the tip to the tip of Mike’s tongue, enrapt by the slow heady fluttering of Mike’s eyelashes, savouring the sensation and the smell and the sighs as Harvey moved up his knees and lifted his hips ever so slightly; _sex_ with Harvey Specter, _what had his life come to_?

Mike had envisioned this to be many things, but never this slow and honeyed and exposed, with who he is and what he wants.

“Mike, _please_ -“ because this is who Harvey is, Mike’s, and what he wanted more than anything else right now was for Mike to fold him up and fuck him into the mattress while making stupid jokes, and revelations which made both men smile through their tears, and conceding that Harvey’s vests are _the goddamn shit_. It’s what Harvey wanted _and that’s a weird thought_ ; having never wanted an infinity before, he believed that should be too little for him now to earn the respect Mike gives him every day and the risks the kid takes for him every goddamn second.

But he was Harvey Specter, so he’d shut up and be glad that the kid didn’t see, _or care_ , how much more he deserved as he followed Mike’s lead and turned over, not on all fours but lifting his ass up sufficiently on his knees for Mike to be able to keep rimming him like a pro _right fucking there Ohmyfuckinggod how_ -

“You know you said that out loud.”

“Fuck me on the balcony next time and I’ll yell it to the entirety of New York, _promise_.”

“…So I don’t have to ask you whether you trust me?”

“Of course you have to ask me, ‘cos I’m _definitely_ worried that you’re a cannibal and _still giving you unfettered access to my dick_.”

“…Shutting up.”

“ _Fu-FUCK that’s wha-haat, that’s what I was gonna sug-suggest, yes-_ ”

Mike’s good, Harvey had to admit, grasping Harvey’s hands before they could tangle into silk sheets to tangle with his fingers instead, manipulating muscle flexion and tension to bring their joined hands to rest just above Harvey’s tailbone, grasping tightly only momently before letting them go as he kneeled up, and lined himself up with Harvey’s slippery stretched ass, causing him to breathe in and loosely lid his eyes feeling Mike’s gentle intrusion. It wasn’t entirely comfortable, no more so than the last time he’d been fucked and in Mike’s defence Harvey hadn’t let anybody fuck him in a while so _yeah he probably was tight_ , but Mike’s fingers crept back into his, assuring him that they were both fine and together and he could trust Mike to take care of him this _one goddamn time_ , and as Mike pressed down on Harvey’s tailbone, he eased himself in slowly, inch by torturous inch until Harvey’s keening subsided into a susurrus of murmurs and confessions stifled by his pillow. Mike moved falteringly, so fractionally slowly that the rocking of their hips was almost as gradual as the deep burgundy bruise forming at the nape of Harvey’s neck, almost as gentle as the pecks Mike left on Harvey’s shoulder blades and at almost as glacial a pace as Louis’ comprehension of Harvey’s ‘wife’ jokes, that particular thought probably spurring Harvey into action, pushing his ass back onto Mike’s pubic bone in a clear neon-red sign for _more_.

Harvey never thought Mike ever learned how to play dirty, and admired him unreservedly for his eternal belief that victory belongs to those who wait and do things right, but once Mike got Harvey’s all clear, he soon learnt that all bets were off as Mike acquiesced, not so much easing in and _pushing_ anymore as now _slamming_ into Harvey’s ass with the sloppy slapping noises of a pleasurable spanking which he was _definitely going to feel later, board meeting be damned_. Monosyllabic grunts emitted in syncopation with craned necks and smacked kisses filled Harvey’s penthouse, and as Mike’s hips began to stutter arbitrarily he withdrew, slapping Harvey cheekily on the ass to get him to turn over so that he could fuck him and commit the sights and sounds he elicited to memory, every moan, and muttered curse and, “ _Mike, more_ …”

Michael Ross held out admirably for someone who couldn’t see within two inches for the lust which blinded him, but when he came, Harvey’s ass clenching around his dick the way he imagined Harvey would grab onto a goddamn ‘best-closer-ever’ trophy, it knocked his head back like a mean right hook, a part of him rueful for missing Harvey’s face in that moment, and the other shell-shocked by the certainty that this was only the first of many such moments to come, pun unintended. Even as his aftershocks subsided, he started moving down Harvey’s body, this time skipping the foreplay to engulf Harvey’s considerable length and suck determinedly with coquettish half-lidded eyes in a mean, _horrible_ , delicious manner which shortly left Harvey keening, and bucking, and coming into his hollowed-out cheeks as Harvey chanted Mike’s name breathlessly like the most important prayer he’d ever say.

And Mike understood what Harvey trusted him with. He understood Harvey hadn’t just trusted him with fucking him, or with loving him, but trusted that he’d allow Harvey to _look_ at him like he was doing right now, a sweet wavering fondness as he pulled Mike up by short ruffled hairs to kiss him long and smooth and slow and purposelessly like he could do this any time and all the time, like he would make it his aim in life to please Mike and ask only for the pleasure of the job well done in return.

“You know I love you too.”

“Mmm.”

Mike withdrew to look him in the eyes, all seriousness with a wicked glint: “At least if anyone now says you have a giant stick up your ass-”

“ _Not that gigantic_.”

“Pretty damn big though.”

“I can roll with that,” Harvey conceded, grinning. “After all, I have excellent taste.”

Mike grinned back, wrapping his arms loosely around Harvey’s neck and placing a delicate reverent peck to Harvey’s cupid’s bow, then reluctantly overturning the covers to get up.

“Versalife awaits, and then I’ve gotta start packing if your realtor’s gonna be any good to me; join me in the shower?”

“You go ahead, I’ll catch you up.”

As Mike’s plodding feet retreated towards the bathroom, Harvey closed his eyes and sighed deeply as his sunlit smile plummeted with the realisation that Mike _may_ be his too, but this wouldn’t last.

 

**Author's Note:**

> SO, thanks for all the feedback in the first few hours, I am terribly honoured already!
> 
> Just FYI, if I am being too slow to update for your liking, please bug me at
> 
> macallanspecter.tumblr.com  
> or  
> macallanspecter.livejournal.com
> 
> -SK


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